( the room is empty now, luckily enough, but the bottle is almost empty which is less fortunate. she’ll have to leave soon to find a new one, and then where will she go? she’s not sure. surely not back here — there’s nothing left for her, but sketches emmrich had made of and for her, even hours ago, when he was still alive.
she’s worked at keeping her walls up, blocking people out. but she’s drunk and a little carefree, and armand has crept in like satan’s serpent, beguiling and sweet. it’s anyone’s guess if she’d rather be alone — she is, in a sense, and not in another. regardless, he’s here now, which isn’t to say she can’t push him out, but that she lacks the will to do so. parisa lets out a humorless half-laugh. )
Yes, I suppose it is.
( emmrich’s windpipe or her heart? either way. )
Do you imagine we’ll ever be forgiven for the things that we do? The worst of it.
no subject
she’s worked at keeping her walls up, blocking people out. but she’s drunk and a little carefree, and armand has crept in like satan’s serpent, beguiling and sweet. it’s anyone’s guess if she’d rather be alone — she is, in a sense, and not in another. regardless, he’s here now, which isn’t to say she can’t push him out, but that she lacks the will to do so. parisa lets out a humorless half-laugh. )
Yes, I suppose it is.
( emmrich’s windpipe or her heart? either way. )
Do you imagine we’ll ever be forgiven for the things that we do? The worst of it.